


The Orphan

by Julie_Jeanette



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Backstory, Christmas Fluff, Gaston was a Juvenile Delinquent, Gen, Lefou was the Angel on Gaston's Shoulder, Pre-Canon, Teen Years, The Grumpy Headmaster, holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 03:10:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13181145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julie_Jeanette/pseuds/Julie_Jeanette
Summary: The orphaned Gaston spends Christmas with Lefou's parents.





	The Orphan

"Papa, can he join us for Christmas? Please? He doesn't have anyone except Maman and me.”

Thirteen-year-old Étienne Lefou pleaded with his father, Jacques, to allow Gaston to join his family for Christmas. The problem was that the other boy- now fourteen- was developing a reputation as a troublemaker. Monsieur Durand's schoolhouse window had recently been broken by someone shooting a musket ball through it during the night. Everyone in Villeneuve had a fairly good idea who the culprit was.

Jacques, the town candlemaker, paused in his painting of a silver Christmas candle to glance at his son with a conflicted look. "Étienne, did Gaston confess to breaking Monsieur Durand's window yet? And pay him for the damage?" he asked.

"Uh, no. But he said nobody can prove it, Papa. Nobody saw him doing it," Lefou replied, in defense of his best friend.

"Well, son- I hate to say this, but Gaston Legume isn't growing up to amount to much. He quit school, and he runs wild, causing all kinds of trouble. The banker said that Gaston beat up his son. And if there's one thing I don't like, it's bullies."

"But Papa, the banker's son started it. He said mean things to him!"

"Étienne," Jacques fixed his calm gaze over his son. "The Good Book says 'love your enemies.' Turn the other cheek, and don't use violence. Gaston isn't obeying the Golden Rule or behaving himself. I don't think he's a very good influence on you."

Lefou frowned at his words, then opened his mouth to plead Gaston's case some more. "But if he spends Christmas Day in his house alone, he might get really mad, and shoot someone else's window out. And-"

The boy's eyes widened, realizing he had said too much. He clapped his hand over his mouth. "Um- I mean- if he were, in fact, inclined to do such a thing..." he babbled.

His mother Jeanne entered the room, hearing the tail end of their conversation. "Étienne! So you know he did it! Were you with him?" she asked, her voice slightly raised.

"Well, yes. We were...hunting." Lefou blushed, knowing he'd been caught as an eyewitness, or even an accessory, to vandalism.

"Hunting in the middle of town?" Jacques pressed, now growing angry.

Lefou thought for a moment and came up with a little white lie. "There were geese! A flock of geese. Flying right over the town square. He kind of...missed," he said sheepishly.

"I thought that Gaston 'never misses a shot' according to you," said his father.

"The greatest hunter in the whole, wide world!" exclaimed his mother with a little laugh, gesturing dramatically with her arms.

"Okay! Okay!" Lefou said with a defeated sigh, unable to lie any more. "I guess Gaston did do it on purpose. He was angry at Monsieur Durand. He hates him because Monsieur Durand hated him, and he always said he was a dunce, and stupid. How would you like to go through school being called dumb by everybody? And having your parents die? Gaston never asked for a life like that. It isn't fair! Maybe I can get Gaston to confess and pay Monsieur Durand back. Maybe he just needs a second chance."

Lefou's mother smiled at him with pride. She reached down and brushed a curl of hair out of his face. "You really are a good friend to him, honey. And I think you're right! He needs a second chance."

"If you can get him to confess and pay," said his father with a look of skepticism. He went back to crafting his candles. "He's fourteen now, isn't he? That means he could spend a day bent over with his head in the stockade, for a minor crime. I hope he knows that. Son, you have too soft a heart sometimes, but I trust you can help him come clean."

"I can! I can try to help him!" Lefou said eagerly.  
…

As Lefou left his parents' cottage and headed across town on the way to Gaston's house, he saw an interesting spectacle. A man was being pushed along- nearly dragged, in fact, by two other men gripping him by the arms on either side. It was only the town drunk, Henri. He was likely passed out in the square, causing an eyesore for all of the shoppers in the market.

Lefou watched him being taken to the stocks. The two men severely yanked Henri's arms back, opened the wooden bar of the stockade, and forced Henri to bend forward. They locked his head and hands in the contraption with a loud 'clap' of the bar. As they left, Henri whined like a child and tried to writhe and wiggle out of it, but it was hopeless. Children passed by and laughed at him. Lefou felt sorry for him.

Just then, Lefou spotted a familiar figure approaching. His heart sped up a little at the sight of the tall boy, now looking very much like a man. His black hair was combed back neatly, a few snowflakes settling upon his coiffure. His face was rosy red from the crisp midwinter chill. He regarded Lefou with a wide smile and laughing eyes.

"Lefou! There you are!"

"Gaston!" Lefou quickened his steps and rushed happily to his best friend's side, clutching his arm around the elbow. Gaston gave Lefou a slight push away.

"You're too clingy," he muttered.

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, just try not to be so...weird. You know what happens in this town to those who are odd." Gaston regarded the unfortunate Henri, and his punishment, with a narrowed gaze. "He'll never learn, will he?" he said haughtily.

"Gaston...that could be you next,” Lefou said in a tone of warning. “Because of what you did to M. Durand and the schoolhouse window. You should make amends. Why don't we go to him together? We-"

"Lefou, what are you going on about?" Gaston said dismissively.

"It's true, Gaston. Vandals can be locked in the stockades, too. You're old enough for adult punishment."

"How do you know?"

"My Papa said so. He knows all the town's laws."

Lefou watched Gaston's haughty look turn solemn as he glanced over at drunken old Henri. A boy was walking up to him, putting the remains of his stale bakery baguette on the poor man's head. It would likely attract birds.

Gaston clenched his jaw a few times. He looked to Lefou as if he were thinking very hard. After a moment, he regarded Lefou with a bitter expression.

"Fine! Let's go talk to the old bat," he said in a low tone. "I'll go home and get some of my parents' inheritance money for him."

…  
Gaston stood there somewhat reluctantly, letting Lefou knock on Monsieur Durand’s door. The headmaster opened it; he regarded the boys with a sour expression.

“Yes?” he growled.

Gaston shifted his eyes back and forth, glancing from M. Durand to Lefou, who gave him a wide-eyed ‘Well?’ look. Gaston looked back at the headmaster and cleared his throat.

“Monsieur Durand...I have forty livres in my pocket to give to you...to pay for your broken window-”

“You shot out my window, didn’t you, Legume?” Durand spat.

“Yes...I did. I’m-” He glanced back at Lefou for moral support. Lefou gave him an encouraging nod. 

“Sorry. I’m sorry for shooting your window. Here’s forty livres.” He took out the bag of coins and handed it to the man. M. Durant counted the coins, his face in its usual scowl. 

“Forty...that is much more than enough to pay for the window. I-” His expression softened as he looked at Gaston. “I- my sister has been sick, and her husband can’t pay the doctor bill, and this...will help. Your apology is accepted.”

“Thank you,” said Gaston, relief coming over his face. 

“Joyeux Noel!” both Gaston and Lefou exclaimed to the headmaster as they turned and ran. 

“Joyeux Noel,” Monsieur Durand called to the boys, gripping the money bag. He smiled in relief. To think that the extra gift he needed to help his sister had just come in the form of that incorrigible Legume boy! 

…

Lefou was overjoyed that Christmas morning. Besides getting a new ribbon bow tie from Maman and a whittling knife from Papa, he had managed to make a present for Gaston.

Gaston had said that he liked the smell of pine trees. Lefou remembered that detail, and had quickly run to the general store to buy a tub of lye, then to the butcher's to ask for some discarded animal lard. He then made bars of homemade soap, just like Maman had taught him. He took pine needles and tree sap and mixed them into the soap, along with some green color dye like Papa used to make pine scented candles. He wrapped the soap bars in brown paper, just like the storekeeper's. He also decided to give Gaston his hunting knife, since he never used it anyway.

The smell of his Maman's croquembouche cake baking in the cast iron stove made the little house heavenly. A knock came at his door and he ran to open it. "Gaston!" he exclaimed. The taller boy came in with a wide smile, his arms full of gifts.

"Hello, Gaston! Joyeux Noel!" exclaimed Jeanne, Lefou's mother. "Come and sit down, boys." She let Gaston sit on the rocking chair in the tiny family room, the only good comfortable chair in the cottage. The only other places to sit were wooden benches around the creaky kitchen table. She stoked up the fireplace and put on a kettle of tea. "I'll get the croquembouche cake balls out in a few minutes!"

Gaston took one of the gifts and held it out to her. "For you, Madame. For being the best housemaid our family ever had."

Jeanne unwrapped the gift and gasped in joy. "Gaston! You shouldn't have! This must have cost a... thank you so much!" She went to hug the boy, who had become almost like her own son after he had lost both his parents and became the sole heir of his large manor home.

"You're welcome. You deserve it," said Gaston. He had bought her a jar of the apothecary's expensive skin cream, to put on her hands. Jeanne spent long hours at Gaston's house, cleaning and sweeping and scrubbing. Her hands were often red and dry from all the domestic work she did.

"And Monsieur Jacques, this is for you," Gaston said, presenting Lefou's father with a gift. It was a set of dinner table candles- and they weren’t just the candlesticks. They were ensconced in bases plated in real gold. "Twelve carat," Gaston said as Jacques studied the candlesticks with a look of awe.

"Why, they are like the kind that the royals use! The Prince must have candles like these at his chateau!" Jacques exclaimed.

"Gaston-" Jeanne said in concern, "Those candlesticks were the ones your parents had on their dining room table. Why would you want to give them away? They are worth so much, wouldn't you want to keep them for your future bride someday?"

Gaston shrugged. "I have no use for them. They just gather dust."

"Merci, Gaston. We appreciate your kind thoughts of us very much," said Jacques. "I'll set them on the table and light them for when we have croquembouche." He gave Jeanne a loving smile. "Your cake is the best in Villeneuve, but don't tell Monsieur Cuire."

Gaston finally gave Lefou a parcel wrapped in brown paper, with a red ribbon. "This is for you. My best, most loyal friend." He watched his friend tear open the paper, and Lefou gave a rather unmanly squeal of delight when he saw what it was.

"A hat just like yours! Except red!" Lefou secured the bright red tricorne hat over his longish mess of dark curls. It was a dressy hat, made of a soft velvety material. He'd admired the black one Gaston wore, and now he had one even more colorful. Gaston even knew his favorite color. 

"Thank you so much, Gaston! You've been so generous to us!"

Gaston looked at the three of them with a slightly embarrassed, wistful expression. He blinked his eyes a few times.

"You're the best family in Villeneuve. You all deserve it," he said, shrugging as to not appear too mushy.

"Oh, Étienne, you look like a handsome boy in that! Like a little soldier," Jeanne gushed, giving her son a warm hug. "I bet in a few years, the girls will start to go crazy over you!"

Lefou made a face while his mother wasn't looking. Girls? What are girls? His heart was claimed already; it was full to bursting with feelings for the tall boy sitting before him.

"Gaston, open your present from me!" said Lefou, trying to put a lid on his merry enthusiasm. He rushed to get the basket hidden behind a bench, and plopped it in his friend's lap.

"Soap?" Gaston said. He smelled one of the bars. "Pine scented soap. I like it! And a hunting knife?" He grinned brightly. "Thank you Lefou! You're the best!"

Lefou beamed, his heart rate soaring and a giddiness sweeping over him. He gazed at Gaston's proud smile, and even dared to dream that he saw a spark of admiration in the other boy's hazel eyes. It was the look he lived for.

"Étienne, isn't that the hunting knife I gave you when you were eleven?" asked Jacques. His father's question burst Lefou's little bubble of joy for a moment.

"Yeah. It is, but I'm no good at slaughtering animals," Lefou said sheepishly. "It'll be a lot better in Gaston's skilled hands." He felt his cheeks burning up, but hoped that would be attributed to the wood-burning fireplace nearby.

His father shrugged. "Well, put to good use, then, I guess."

"Étienne, you're such a good and kind boy. Such a dear friend!" Jeanne said, going over to her son and giving him a hug and kiss on his flushed cheek. "Do you boys want some croquembouche now? I think it's ready to be put together with the sugar. You can all help me!"

"Yes, Maman!" exclaimed Lefou.  
…

As Gaston spent the holiday with Lefou and his parents, he couldn't help but feel a bit envious. Sure, he had an inheritance and a big house, but Lefou had parents who were alive, loving and accepting. They even gave Gaston a second chance that Christmas- something the boy was not used to having from adults in his life. He had, somehow, made a good decision. He had listened to Lefou's advice and confessed to the schoolmaster, paid him the money, and he was rewarded by the chance to spend Christmas with an actual family.

The threat of the humiliating stockade was part of it. But the most painful thing was-- and he hated to admit it-- he absolutely needed the approval of Lefou's parents. If they forbid Lefou to hang around with him, he would be completely alone.

Perhaps he could turn his life around for better. Become admired and praised, instead of the town's young hooligan. Today, he had made a big step towards 'good.'

As he glanced at his shorter friend, who was now helping to assemble a sticky sugary croquembouche and eating pieces in the process, Gaston was happy to feel he had someone almost like a brother. Sure, Lefou wasn't the most aggressive or manly fellow in the world, maybe a little clingy, and a bit over-enthusiastic, but he was all Gaston had.

Just like family.  
...


End file.
